


What Friends Are For

by Yel_Ashaya



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bromance, Cardassians, Fluff, Fluffy Animals, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, compassion - Freeform, shuttle crash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 04:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14011995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yel_Ashaya/pseuds/Yel_Ashaya
Summary: Garak and Bashir go on a trip to the planet Zeta Reticuli IV, but their fun is interrupted when the two find themselves in peril after a crash-landing, and Garak is forced to care for his injured friend. As the the weeks turn into months, Garak and Bashir have to look after each other and fight against adversity to survive. Expect friendship, heartbreak and lots of fluff!(Originally published on fanfiction.net, where I'm called 'Yel Ashaya')Disclaimer: Star Trek, except my OCs, is not mine





	1. Chapter 1

"I have to say, Doctor, I am a little... unsure about this trip," the Cardassian admitted, looking intently at his console.

Doctor Bashir let a slight smirk tug at his lips. He looked up from the shuttlecraft dashboard and regarded the alien tailor. "Why, Garak," he said, "Are you nervous?"

Garak looked hurt. Sort of. He smiled at the doctor. "Of course not, dear doctor," he countered simply.

"I believe you, the doctor said with his usual playfulness.

Garak rolled his eyes and continued to focus his attention on the shuttlecraft's functions. But, he knew the vehicle did not require continuous manning. So, he sighed and looked back at the Starfleet officer. He would have to withstand the doctor's scrutinising stare. "Was there anything else, doctor?" he finally asked.

Bashir shook his head. "You still sound... incredulous, Garak," he declared.

"Oh, I do apologise," Garak said with his usual calmness, "for sounding 'incredulous'."

Bashir gave him a wry smile. "I was thought you would be a bit more excited about this," he admitted, sounding and looking a little sad.

Garak smiled softly. "I am excited, doctor. But, having lived in this universe for so long has taught me not to get too excited," he told the doctor.

Bashir nodded, albeit with slight reluctance. "I thought it would be fun."

"Fun would be using the holosuites," Garak said simply. He noticed Bashir's downcast expression. "But, this is more than interesting."

"I hadn't chosen the holosuites because, well... Firstly because of Quark, and secondly because you're always complaining about them," he reminded Garak.

Garak frowned. "I am?"

he asked, incredulous.

Bashir nodded firmly. "You're always saying how they're so inaccurate."

"Hmm," Garak murmured.

"I knew this was a bad idea," Bashir muttered, cursing himself.

"Don't be so hard on yourself, my dear doctor," the Cardassian tried to reassure him. "I have indeed heard that this is a rather impressive planet," he added.

Bashir nodded in agreement. "I hope you're right."

"When am I ever wrong?" Garak challenged, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.

Bashir shook his head laughingly and focused on landing the runabout.

"Speed down to 700 miles am hour," he announced.

Garak nodded. "Oh... Doctor?" he said. "I'm detecting an anomaly."

"An anomaly?" The Cardassian's voice betrayed no worry, so the doctor was force to ask him to elaborate.

"Yes... Some sort of turbulence," Garak answered, scanning the runabout's readings.

Bashir, too, was carrying out analysis checks on the odd occurrence. "I agree," he proclaimed, and then his eyes widened in terror. He reined in the anxiety as his Starfleet and genetic engineered brain kicked into action. "Garak, are you seeing this?"

Swiftly, the tailor nodded. "I am, and it does not look good," he said bluntly.

As soon as the words had left his mouth, both he and Bashir were forced into silence. The runabout shook violently as it became overwhelmed with the tsunami-like wind. The air rushed past them like speeding horses in an Old Earth chariot race. It howled and hollered.

Bashir frantically fought to contain his apprehension as he tried to steady the vehicle's swaying attitude.

Garak cast him a shadowy look. "Doctor, we must try to land."

"I know, I know," Bashir quickly agreed, "but its easier said than done."

Garak swiftly keyed in a series of attitude-relocation codes and the shuttle steadied. For a little while at least.

The violent movements began all over again. It turned from left to right, shaking and vibrating as gusts of wind hit all sides of the runabout.

"Altitude is one thousand metres," Garak said loudly.

Bashir muttered something under his breath, and from the look on the doctor's face, Garak could tell it was not something pleasant.

"Five hundred metres," Garak announced after a brief while, struggling to be head of the roar of the struggling engines.

Bashir shook his head and focused - tried to focus - on getting the shuttle's heading stable. If they crashed when under some sort of control, at least they may not end up being upside down or something worse.

Garak's eyes were unblinking, wide and disbelieving. "This turbulence is unprecedented, dare I say," he announced.

"I'm glad one of us is having a nice time," Bashir grumbled.

"Two hundred metres now, doctor," the Cardassian relayed. A second later, he amended, "One hundred- fifty- ten!"

The words were interrupted not by the troubled Doctor but by the loud thud of the craft slamming into the surface of Zeta Reticuli IV.

Wearily, hazily, Garak opened his eyes. Smoke filled his eyes and dust choked his throat. He coughed and spluttered, but realised that he was at least alive. He looked around the cockpit.

"Doctor?" he called out bleakly, craning his neck over the tangle of rubble and twisted metal.

No reply.

Garak huffed. He tried to pull himself up from his seat and it was only after numerous attempts that he realised his seatbelt was on. He yanked it away and finally was free. He wondered how injured he was, but no pangs of pain hit him as he stood up. He rubbed the back of his neck and began to search the cabin.

It was dark and foreboding, but his heightened Cardassian senses helped him. Only marginally, but they did help.

Carefully, he stepped over the fallen wreckage and pulled himself up on the chair.

"Doctor?" he called out again, but again there was no reply.

Garak knitted his brow and his heart skipped a beat as he caught sight of a blur of blue and black - a Starfleet science division uniform - in amongst the steamy, blackened wreckage and rubble. He crossed the bleak cabin, few steps that seemed so much more, and reached the doctor.

Bashir's head was lolling to one side, his eyes were closed, and his expression one of blank peace.

"Julian?" Garak asked. "Doctor Bashir, can you hear me?"

Still no answer came from the man's lips.

Garak sighed. He checked the doctor's vital signs with a tricorder and breathed out a sigh of relief. He noticed Bashir's shallow breathing and felt for his heartbeat. He's alive, Garak thought with relief.

Considering for a moment, Garak slipped his hands under the doctor's unconscious form and lifted him up. He carried him out of the shuttle and was struck with the harrowing realisation that they had crashed in the middle of nowhere. A forest of some sort.

He noticed the blood that streamed from Bashir forehead and thought for a moment. Swiftly, he took a med-pack from the downed, destroyed runabout and retrieved a gauze. He placed it gently over the open wound on Bashir's head and studied his handiwork for a while.

Propping Bashir's still unmoving yet living form against a tree trunk, Garak himself also tried to get some sleep. It was perhaps one of the longest nights of his life. It was late evening when they had crashed, as the doctor had liked the idea of hiking during the night, but the air was reasonably still. It was a massive contrast to the colossal turbulence and gravity pockets they had recently been subjected to. Every now and then, the Cardassian would open his eyes and catch sight of the stars as they shone their interstellar light on the sleeping form of Deep Space Nine's chief medical officer.

Day could not have come quicker. The air was quite cool but was still and relaxed, much the unconscious Bashir.

Garak heard a whimper and attributed it to Doctor Bashir. He sat beside him and checked Bashir's vital signs again. No severe injuries.

Bashir coughed.

Garak frowned and put the tricorder away.

Groggily, the doctor opened his eyes. He murmured as his brain stirred into being and looked around. His eyes fell on Garak. "Garak?" he said softly, his vision a little blurry and his throat achy.

The Cardassian nodded gravely. "Doctor, you're alive."

Bashir managed to tiny smile, but he knew Garak knew he was alive. He saw the tricorder.

"Wha- what happened?" Bashir managed to ask.

Garak was silent for a while and then answered. "Don't you remember?"

Bashir coughed again and Garak braced himself for the possibility of blood, but his worried were unneeded. Bashir shook his head.

"We hit some turbulence," Garak explained. "I have to say, you did perform most admirably."

Bashir threw him a slight wry smile. "We still crashed, though."

Garak made a noncommittal gesture. "A technicality, my dear doctor.

Bashir reached up and felt the bandage on his head. He smiled. "You did this?" he asked, referring to the gauze.

For a moment - a brief moment - embarrassment crossed the Cardassian's face but Garak quickly banished it. "It was simple enough," he said simply. "Besides, I felt that I needed to return the favour after you... helped me with my neural implant."

Bashir smiled. Widely. Thankfully. "Thank you," he said. He would have forgotten about that event had it not been for the Cardassian holonovel Garak had given him.

"No, don't thank me now, doctor," Garak countered. "You can thank me when Deep Space Nine picks up our distress signal and we can go home."


	2. Chapter 2

"When did you send that signal, Garak?" the weary doctor asked, watching Garak closely.

The tailor looked up and regarded Bashir. "Signal?" he said simply, staring blankly.

Bashir groaned and touched his still injured head. "The... distress signal," he reiterated, wondering if that addition to the information would jog Garak's memory.

The Cardassian nodded. "Ah, yes," he said in realisation. "It was last night, I believe," he answered Baahir's question.

Doctor Bashir nodded and then harrumphed. He sighed out of frustration and tiredness.

Garak cocked an eye ridge in response to his friend. "What is it, doctor?" he asked, sounding truly concerned.

Bashir did not doubt the tailor's level of care put into the inquiry. "I wonder when  _Deep Space Nine_  will receive our distress call," he muttered.

"Oh, my dear doctor," Garak exclaimed jovially. "You always were such a positive soul!"

Bashir threw him a wry smile. "Garak, I'm not in the mood for this."

The tailor frowned, but only lightly. "You misunderstand, doctor," he elaborated. "I was being sincere."

Bashir raised an eyebrow at the sound of that. "You, sincere?" Bashir exclaimed in half-mock surprise.

Garak chuckled.

"I really don't know when you're being serious and when you aren't, Garak," Doctor Bashir continued. "You did work for the Obsidian Order." Bashir watched as his friend's expression change slightly at the sound of those two words. He added, "Garak?"

However, Garak only shook his head. "My words were said with every sense of sincerity," he maintained to the doctor. "I was being truthful."

The mischievous glint in the Cardassian's eye told Bashir that he should be wary. "Yes, but truth is in the eye of the beholder."

Garak smiled - beamed - at the sound of someone using his own words. "That it is," he agreed, "but, nonetheless, I meant what I said. You have always been such a positive person. Why are you acting so negatively now?"

Bashir was quiet for a short while, considering and mulling over his friend and now inquisitor's question. He found himself smiling. "We have crash landed, Garak," he said bluntly, as if they both needed reminding of their unfortunate situation, "on a random planet with a..." He trailed off, thinking of a way to explain their surroundings "less than appealing atmosphere," he finished.

Garak nodded. "Yes, doctor," he said agreeably. "But our distress call will be found. There would be no reason to worry about us being stuck here on this 'random' planet indefinitely."

"Anyway," Bashir said defiantly, waving his hand as if to signal a change of subject, "talking about it is unlikely to make  _Deep Space Nine_  locate our distress beacon any sooner."

Garak smiled at the doctor. "That's another thing I find most endearing about you, doctor, your sense of humour is rather good."

Baahir nodded in appreciation.

"For a human," Garak added.

Bashir slapped his thighs and started to get up, leaving his resting place. Garak tutted at him. "Doctor, you should rest."

Bashir stood anyway, held his hands on his hips. _"I'm_  the doctor, Garak," he declared. "I think I'll be fine. You're the tailor, the gardener, the soldier, the spy."

Garak inclined his head slightly in appreciation of Doctor Bashir's list of his respective occupations. "If we don't get a reply within an hour, I will look for food."

"You're going  **hunting?"**  Bashir quizzed Garak skeptically. He raised an eyebrow, waited for the Cardassian's response.

Garak laughed and shook his head. "No," he said bluntly. "I was going to retrieve the emergency ration packs from the shuttle."

Bashir nodded and sat back down, his limbs feeling sufficiently stretched - as much as they could be in the situation - as he watched Garak go on his way to locate the rations. "Garak?" he called out.

Garak turned around in the thick forest and faced Bashir expectantly.

"Be careful."

Garak nodded and then turned around and made for the runabout. Bashir watched as his friend, and only friend on the entire planet on which they were, disappeared into the undergrowth, whilst he himself sat silently and waited.

Bashir had never really liked the Cardassians as a race, as a whole, but he certainly knew how to characterise them. Leaving the colourful metaphors and Bajoran curses and derogatory terms for the time being, he recalled how systematic the Cardassians were. How organised and such excellent timekeepers they were. A slight smile crept across the doctor's face. They were murderers, ruthless oppressors, rapists and warriors, yet he was almost praising them for their excellent organisational skills.

Bashir sat in silence for another few minutes, but soon found that Garak had held up the Cardassian aptitude that had been set out. The tailor emerged half an hour later, which was slightly longer than Bashir had been thinking - hoping - it would be.

"Why the long face?" Garak asked the doctor as he plodded through the forest path with a surprising amount of grace.

Bashir grinned and looked up at him. "I didn't expect you to take that long," he let on.

Garak nodded curtly, stepped over to the doctor, handed him half of the supply of the replicator rations. "I wasn't aware I took that long," he countered simply.

Bashir sighed, fingering the ration pack. "They say time flies when you're having fun," he muttered thoughtfully. "I suppose it must work both ways."

"You're saying time goes slower when one isn't having 'fun'?" Garak enquired, looking both skeptical and curious.

Bashir nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying, Garak," he replied, staring at his rations with hungry eyes.

"That doesn't make any sense," Garak simply countered the doctor's point.

Bashir only shrugged. "It's an old Earth saying," he explained unhelpfully.

"I must say," said Garak, "your old Earth is full of these 'sayings'."

Bashir chuckled and smiled. He broke open a ration pack and knew instantly what to expect when he put it in his mouth. Starfleet was an excellent organisation but for all its merits, the emergency rations were not entirely of high standard. "For example," Bashir continued his explanation for the Cardassian, "you got to do the fun bit."

Garak looked quizzical. "I did?"

Bashir nodded. "You got to go and search this... uh, forest for the runabout."

"I didn't find it much fun," Garak objected. "I only went in place of you because your head looked to be in a bad way, and I knew where the runabout crashed. More so than you."

The Starfleet doctor considered that. Barely. "Still. I was the one lying here, waiting for, well,  _anything_  really... a carnivorous reptilian megabeast could've eaten me there and then." He winced at the sound of his made up animal.

Garak raised an eye ride, evidently amuse by the young doctor's what-if story. "Or, consumed by your vivid imagination," he added, waving a partially accusatory finger in Bashir's direction.

Bashir gave Garak a wry smile. "You got to have the adventure."

"I wouldn't call trekking half a mile through a dense fungi-infested wood an adventure," Garak corrected him.

Bashir harrumphed in defeat.

"And," Garak continued, "before you ask, I  _didn't_  happen to meet a carnivorous reptilian megabeast."

Bashir scowled but quickly turned his attention back to his 'food'. "Anyway, at least we've got...  _food."_

Garak nodded. "Indeed." He, too, looked at his ration pack. He tore it open and ate some of it. It was a solid bar of something conspicuous; probably coagulated nutrients.

"Enjoying your nutrient paste?" Bashir asked, a smile on his lips.

Garak nodded. "I'll have to endeavour not to eat it all now."

"True." An expression of seriousness flashed across the doctor's face. "We have to savour them."

Garak had never really been a sensitive soul, so to speak. He changed the subject. "We are probably going to be here for a while," he said. "Perhaps we should think of some things to talk about."

"I have no ideas," Bashir said quickly, guessing that Garak was going to ask him to think of a topic to discuss. Bashir was examining his ration pack as if it were something new and exciting, though he had seen ones like it hundreds of times before, but he was too bored to worry.

Garak shook his head, countering Bashir's statement. "No, my dear doctor, you have quite an imagination on your shoulders. That young mind of yours must be full of interesting subject matters for discussion."

Bashir mused that over. "Hmmm..." he said in thought. "We could discuss those old Earth sayings again, if you like."

"What an excellent idea." Garak clapped his hands together decidedly.

In thought, Bashir rubbed his chin. "Well... How about 'i before e, except after c'?"

Garak frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"I didn't understand it, either," Bashir agreed. "It basically is saying that English words that have the vowels 'i' and 'e' next to one another, will always have the vowels in that order, i before e. Unless, of course, the word behind with the letter 'c'." Bashir himself looked perplexed when he delivered that explanation.

Garak nodded, looking somewhat detatched. "I... think I may understand."

Bashir regained his thoughtful expression. "Here's another one: 'Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic'."

Garak nodded. "Ah yes, that is quite understandable."

"It's one of my favourites," Bashir revealed.

"Any more sayings, doctor?" Garak asked, still looking rather interested.

Bashir thought harder. "Got one: 'Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth'."

Garak smiled. A look of realisation was on his face. "I believe I recognise that one."

"You do?"

"Mr Sherlock Holmes, I believe?"

Doctor Bashir nodded agreeably. "Yep."

"Now, doctor, which great Cardassian once said 'Truth is in the eye of the beholder'?" Garak asked him.

Bashir pretended to think long and deep for the answer to that one. "Well, I know a slightly  _different_  version of that saying comes from a great Terran playwright."

Garak shook his head, but a smile ghosted on his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

"I shouldn't think night will fall _too_  slowly," Bashir mused hopefully. He sighed and watched Garak.

The Cardassian tailor nodded agreeingly. "Hmm...?" he said, having not really been listening to the doctor's words.

Bashir threw him a wry smile. "You weren't listening," he said playfully.

Garak nodded hesitantly. "I do apologise, doctor," he said softly, but Bashir was caught up trying to figure out how genuine the apology had actually been. Garak speaking again disturbed Julian's train of thought. "I would make an  _awful_  patient," the Cardassian announced, referring to his ability to pretend to not listen.

Bashir smiled at his friend. "You've already  _been_  my patient," he subsequently reminded Garak.

For a short moment, Garak remained quiet. A smile on his lips, he said simply, "I had not forgotten, young doctor."

Bashir nodded and held up his hands, feigning surrender. "I know, I know." He smiled.

"After all, how could I possibly forget that day?" said Garak, and Bashir was left to puzzle over whether or not the alien's words were to be answered or if they were a rhetorical question.

"Cardassians don't forget," was Bashir's response, and to which Garak beamed.

Then, he sighed and laid back against the tree. "It is rather cold," he announced, looking a little contemptuous with his present surroundings.

Bashir raised an eyebrow. "Garak, stop complaining."

"I cannot simply suffer in silence," the Cardassian said with emphasis.

"When it gets dark - _finally,"_  Bashir said, trying to reassure his friend, "you'll probably get tired anyway." He wasn't really one for the prospect of having to put up with an inic

Garak did not look particularly convinced regarding Julian's suggestion. "The human mind may work that way, but I assure you, a Cardassian could never be so conquered by his environment."

Bashir rolled his olive-hued eyes. "You're the one complaining of the cold," he reminded Garak.

Garak kept quiet and watched the equally silent trees, annoyed that the young human officer had managed to out-think him. But that would not be for long. Garak tried to formulate numerous comebacks.

_"And,"_  Bashir went on, "you have all those scales. All I've got is a blanket and this uniform."

Garak tilted his head to one side, both amused and perplexed. "The scales are not for thermal regulatory purposes," he said bluntly, his pale blue eyes challenging the doctor to give his side of the discussion.

Bashir blushed, his cheeks slightly reddening. "Regardless," he breathed, with an empty gesture of his hands.

"Now who's moaning?" Garak quipped.

Bashir huffed impatiently, turned his gaze up to the skies. "It is certainly getting darker," he decided, but he wondered if he was saying what he was really seeing.

"Ah, doctor," said Garak, sounding deflated. "Your judgement may have been hindered by hope."

Bashir looked back at Garak, considered. "'Hindered by hope'?" he mused, rubbing his chin. "That's quite good. Did you make it up?"

Garak smiled. "Of course," said blandly, his face giving nothing away. "I made it up right there and then."

Bashir rolled his eyes. He sighed, lay back against the tree. Looking up at the stars, he sighed. Finally, darkness had sufficiently won the battle with light and he closed his eyes. Garak, however, was enjoying no such luxury. He was watching Bashir, had been for some time. The doctor lay peacefully, his silver thermal wrap around him protectively like a shiny coccoon.

It was cold. The air was chilly and wind whispered past Garak's position on numerous occasions, and he even went so far as to ruffle his usually perfectly uniform hair, letting the wiry but thick strands hang over his vulnerable ears. When he breathed out the slightly thicker air, little rings of water vapour would appear before him. A shiver ran through his body, and his continuous fidgeting was cause enough to rouse Bashir early from his peaceful sleep. As far as he, and the planet, was concerned, it was still the dead of night.

"Garak?" Bashir spoke drowsily. "Have you not slept at all?"

The tailor ignored the slightly scathing tone of the question. "I couldn't get comfortable."

Bashir smiled grimly. "I know what you mean," he lied; he didn't want Garak to know that while one of them was about to suffer from hyperthermia, the other was having one of the most wonderful sleeps of his life. He regarded Garak, then said, "Even the Cardassian beds on DS9 are more comfortable than leaning against a  _tree stump."_

Garak shook his head. "No, that was not that problem. I can't believe how  _cold_  it is on this planet."

Bashir shrugged. "Different species, different requirements."

Garak nodded in agreement.

"You should have used your thermal wrap," Bashir told him.

Garak grinned. "I'm afraid that would have been quite impossible, my dear doctor," he said.

Bashir cocked his head to one side, as if to say 'Oh?'"

"There was only the one," Garak continued explaining. "At least, that I managed to find in the runabout."

A look of built suddenly flashed across Bashir's face. He had assumed that Garak did have a blanket, but that he wasn't wearing it because it was unfashionable. Just as he opened his mouth to apologise, however, Garak had stopped him. He held up a hand. "Don't blame yourself, Julian. I'll just have to learn to stop complaining."

Bashir frowned. "I wonder what they're doing back on DS9."

Garak was helpful for the subject change. "Nothing of vital attention, I should think " Garak answered.

"I never knew how... isolated I would feel. This planet... the temperature... the carnivorous reptilian megabeasts." At the last comment, both Bashir and Garak had a little grin.

"I certainly am glad I have you here, doctor," Garak announced happily.

Bashir smiled. "Me too."

Garak suddenly looked terrified. "Oh, I believe I am becoming sentimental," he exclaimed.

Bashir frowned lightly in amusement. "Garak, that's nothing to be ashamed of."

Garak grinned. "I am not ashamed, doctor, no. I am confused, is all."

"You've got nothing to be confused about."

Garak shrugged his shoulders, lay back down and sighed. "I do wish night would hurry up."

"Yes, well," said Bashir, adopting a regal tone, "time is relative, and it won't listen to you. Besides, it already  _is_  night, but you can't get to sleep."

Garak harrumphed. "Oh, doctor, you humans and your science."

"What about it?"

"It'll be the end of you," Garak warned him, a glint that was more playful than advisory in his eyes.

Though Bashir did not think Garak's advice was meaningful, he knew that the Cardassian never said anything if not for a reason. "How do you mean?" Bashir questioned, looking a little indignant. "Science was the beginning for us."

"Yes, but," Garak mused, "great discoveries cannot be made without even greater consequences; great love cannot be had without even greater sacrifice."

Bashir found himself thinking of his homeworld's history. The Roman Empire, one of the greatest dynasties known to man, would not have earned its place on the map had it not been for its ruthless leadership and the massacre of many opposing powers. The New World would not have been discovered and made what it was now if the first settlers had not sought the extermination of the native American Indians. Nuclear power would have been a far away dream had the bombings of Nagasaki and Hiroshima not taken place. The Saturn-V would never have reached the moon if the US had not recruited Nazi engineers onto their space program.

He nodded and thought. "I understand what you mean Garak, but sacrifices have to be made." He shrugged. "Its the greater good."

"Now I remain sentimental and yet you have become solid as a rock," Garak pointed out, looking directly up at the Milky Way's outermost arm.

Bashir smiled. "I wouldn't go that far, Garak," he said, "but, I suppose you are right."

"I wasn't aware that I was often wrong, doctor," said Garak, that same mischievous look on his face.

"Garak," Bashir said, settling himself down to sleep.

"Yes, doctor?"

"Goodnight."

Garak, across from him, underneath the large fern, closed his eyes. "Goodnight, doctor."


	4. Chapter 4

Bashir stirred slowly from his sleep. He murmured something incomprehensibly then yawned, stretched and sat up. The intense light of the sun was cause for him to blink. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He heard a noise and realised Garak was groaning.

"Garak?"

The Cardassian looked up; he was already awake and had been for some time. "I think I should like to leave, now, doctor," he stated.

Bashir gave him a wry smile. "So would I, believe me," he agreed. "But we can't leave."

"I have to say, I prefer it when you are optimistic, doctor," Garak chided, huffing and crossing his arms.

Bashir nodded glumly. "So do I, but I'm not going to be happy for no reason. Jadzia told me to stop doing that."

"Someone needs to have a word with this sun," Garak continued. "It is  _far_  too bright here."

Bashir grinned. "Just because Cardassians like it to be dingy," he mocked.

Garak gave him an indignant look, then gave in. He stood up and walked about in circles. "What is Captain Sisko  _doing_  up there?" he asked no one in particular.

Bashir shrugged, answered, "He's probably very busy, Garak. The distress signal was probably very faint, so—"

Garak cut him off with an impatient wave of the hand. "Doctor,  _please_  don't educate me on physics again."

Bashir huffed. "I wasn't going to."

The Cardassian sighed. "On second thoughts, say what you were going to say," he reconsidered, but it wasn't just Bashir's slightly smug face which made him do it.

"Well," Bashir said, spreading his hands, "a signal travels at the speed of light, yes?"

Garak nodded like he was in military school again.

"But?" Bashir prompted.

"That was a subspace signal, was it not?" the tailor asked with a cock of his head.

Bashir shook his head. "No."

"How can that be?" asked Garak.

"The subspace emitter was destroyed in the crash."

Garak frowned. "How do you know?"

Bashir hesitated, then answered, "I went over to the wreckage site to look for a PADD, but I found none, and saw that the beacon was destroyed."

Garak moaned and cursed in his native language. "So we only have a radio?"

Bashir nodded gravely. "Precisely."

"How far away is  _Deep Space Nine?"_  Garak asked.

Bashir shrugged. "Not far," he said, losing his nonchalant manner.

"'Not far'?" Garak echoed. "That isn't too definitive."

Bashir sighed, hung his head a little. "I know, but I... Think it wasn't too far. It can't have been. The runabout's range is only ten light years."

Garak saw the horrifying flaw in Bashir's words. "Ten light years?" he said, shocked. "That means the message will take ten years to reach Captain Sisko!"

"I know, but I didn't say we actually  _were_  ten light years away from home."

Garak frowned. "Doctor, I don't understand."

Bashir smiled, and Garak tried to work out whether it was closer to being a genuine smile or a smirk. "We might have been half a light year away," he said.

Garak was quiet, considering. "I doubt it."

"You doubt it? Why?" Bashir asked, narrowing his eyes.

"There are  _no_  Class M planets half a light year away from _Deep Space Nine,"_  he said thoughtfully.

Bashir mused. "Hmm… I suppose you're right."

"Doctor, I know you're young, but try to sound a  _little_  more concerned."

"Yes, sorry," Bashir apologised.

"How far away would you estimate we are?" Garak asked.

Bashir rubbed his chin. "Maybe two, three light years."

Garak nodded in agreement, sad agreement. "That means at least three years until  _DS9_  receives our signal."

"They'll notice we're gone, Garak," Bashir reminded him.

"Maybe," was all Garak said. "But I don't think I can survive another week here, let alone three years."

Bashir suddenly smirked. "You won't have to, Garak."

The Cardassian frowned at him suspiciously.

"There is no radio signal. The subspace transmitter wasn't broken. It's fine," said Bashir.

Garak glared at him, but his expression quickly became favourable. "Well done, doctor," he spoke approvingly. "You  _almost_  had me."

"When one has the best teacher, it's hard to fail," said Bashir with a kind smile.

Garak chuckled. Something wet fell on his shoulder. He looked up and saw that clouds were gathering above them. another droplet fell upon him. He muttered in annoyance and shuddered as another droplet fell on him. Bashir held out his hand to the sky and when he drew it back, it was slightly wet. He laughed quietly. "Its raining," he said.

Garak glowered at him. "Doctor, stating the obvious is something that greatly annoys me."

Bashir held his hands up in a placating gesture. "Yes, I know, but its only  _rain._  And, its only a tiny bit."

Bashir was forced to retract his statement when, a few minutes later, rain was pouring from the Heavens, coming down in great floods. Bashir didn't seem to be too bothered, but Garak was extremely frustrated with his thorough drenching. Bashir regarded the Cardassian and smiled sympathetically. "Garak, take out your thermal wrap."

Garak gave him an inquisitive look. He took out his thermal wrap and looked at it.

"Hold it over your head."

Garak did so and a slight smile of relief formed on his lips. The trees overhead were not doing their due when it came to protecting the two men underneath them, but the thermal wrap's new novel use was being a massive help. After some time, the rain's intensity increased. Patters turned to bombs and Garak was having trouble holding up his makeshift shelter. Bashir hadn't bothered with his thermal wrap, but was still sitting underneath the large tree, trying to stay as warm as possible.

"Actually, doctor," Garak said. "Give me your thermal wrap." Bashir did so and Graak now had both of them. He held them above his head and hung them over two branches of a suitable height. Bashir watched with curious, wondering eyes as the Cardassian retrieved eight heavy stones and places them on the overhanging corners of the thermal wraps. Garak stepped aside and made a welcoming gesture to Bashir. Bashir nodded and stepped into the new tent.

"This is impressive, Garak."

Garak smiled, inclined his head. "Thank you, doctor. Now at least this pesky rain will not destroy my sleeping."

"I'm bored, Garak," Bashir admitted.

Garak raised an eye ridge. "Bored, doctor?"

Bashir nodded. "Yes."

"Hmmm…" Garak said, thinking. "Well, I don't think I can take another one of your scientific talks."

Bashir smiled. "Neither could I."

Garak thought silently, as did the doctor. "Ok, then, I Spy?"

Garak looked at the doctor dubiously. "I'm sorry, doctor?"

"The game. I say something that I can see and you have to try and work out what it is I can see."

Garak made a committal gesture.

So, Bashir began. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with 'm'."

Graak considered and looked around at their surroundings from the safety of their tent. "Mud?"

Bashir shook his head.

"The Milky Way?" he asked.

Bashir laughed. "The Milky Way? It's day. We can't see that  _now."_

Garak harrumphed. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Mountains?"

Bashir looked out in the distance, shook his head. "They're  _hills,_  Garak."

"Are they?" Garak said, frowning. "What distinguishes the two?"

Bashir shrugged. "I don't know really. I've always wondered what makes a hill a hill and a mountain a mountain."

"So it  _is_  a mountain?" Garak asked.

Bashir waved his hand. "I don't know."

"No, I mean is the answer 'mountain'?" Garak asked.

"Oh, no," Bashir clarified.

Garak sank back and sighed. "I give up."

"Mouse," Bashir replied.

Garak frowned. He craned his neck out of the tent. "I don't see  _any_  mice."

"It's probably scampered off now," Bashir suggested. "But, there was one there."

"I don't think I shall believe you, my dear doctor," Garak said, waggling his finger in mock accusation.

Bashir looked a little offended. "Why not?"

"Well, you did  _just_  say our subspace beacon was destroyed," he reminded Bashir.

Bashir nodded in remembrance. "Oh, I suppose I did."

Garak gave him a smug look, then said, "That was a compliment, doctor."


	5. Chapter 5

Garak and Bashir had been stranded on the planet for a long time. They had both guessed at how long it had been since their runabout had hit the turbulence and crash-landed, but estimates were somewhere in between a few days and a few weeks. Their distress signal had still not been picked up, something which frustrated the Doctor but cause much suspicion for the Cardassian.

"I know," Bashir said abruptly one hazy, darkening day. "Why don't we tell each other of our homeworlds' myths?"

Garak looked at him skeptically. "Myths?"

Bashir smiled then nodded. "Yes, myths."

Garak didn't say anything in reply.

Bashir smirked. "Don't tell me Elim Garak doesn't know what a myth is?"

Garak looked offended. "Not at all. However, it would be appreciated if you were to explain the term."

"Well," Bashir began, looking in his brain for the terminology. "A myth is part of culture. Its like a story told over and over again, and told for so long that it actually becomes cemented in peoples' minds."

Garak nodded and understood. "Ah."

"Are there any Cardassian myths?" Bashir quizzed.

Garak frowned. "A few come to mind."

"Can you tell me one?"

"Possibly."

"Ok," Bashir said decidedly, knowing that Garak's little smile meant that he would not say anything further at that point in time. "I'll go first." Bashir rubbed his chin in thought and then decided on a tale to tell his friend.

And so he begun, "Once there was this beautiful woman, and when she was of marriageable age, she was to be given to one of the most powerful men in the world. All of these men lined up as suitors for her, but in the end the King of Sparta won out, and he was called Menelaus. For a little while after that very little was said about the beautiful Helen and her redheaded husband. However," Bashir said abruptly, seeing that the tailor actually looked interested. Bashir smiled and then continued, "A few years later, a prince of a neighbouring state stole Helen of Sparta. His name was Paris, and his father was King Priam of Troy; his brother was the formidable Hector. So, King Agamemnon, and his brother Menelaus, called together all their men so as to besiege the city of Troy. The most famous of warriors, Achilles, was enlisted in the army of Menelaus and Agamemnon. Along with Achilles was his closest friend Patroclus. Patroclus slayed the prince Paris, while wearing Achilles' armour. Thinking that he was Achilles, Hector killed Patroclus."

Garak still looked interested, as Bashir noted, more so than before. "The anguish that Achilles now felt spurred him on to murder Hector, before his rage almost consumed him," he continued.

"And...?" Garak asked.

Bashir looked sad as he explained the ending. He tapped his heel and nodded to it. "His only weakness."

Garak regarded him in both amusement and confusion. "His foot?"

Bashir laughed in spite of the tragic tale he had just retold. "No, well, sort of. You see, Achilles' mother was a sea nymph, and she dipped her son in the River Styx when he was a baby, making him immortal."

"I have a feeling there is more," Garak presumed.

Bashir nodded. "However, she was holding his heel when she dipped him in the Styx, and so that part of Achilles never touched the water."

"That was a very good story," Garak admitted, seeing that Bashir's face was indicative of his preference to hear his friend's opinion."But I do not understand why Achilles acted the way he did, after his friend died. It was a war, and that means people did."

Bashir pursed his lips in thought. That was a valid point, if a little cold. "Well," Bashir hazarded a guess, "he and Patroclus were such great friends, I think, that the grief just overwhelmed him."

"One more question: is this Troy place a real place?" Garak knew that sometimes stories had a basis in fact.

Bashir made a face of perplexity. "I don't think so. I mean, it is partly real, but whether or nor their is truth in the actual story, I don't know. Its just something I remember from school."

"Did you grow up near where this Troy is supposed to have been?" Garak inquired.

Bashir laughed and shook his head. "No, no."

"Oh, then tell me a myth from your homeland," the Cardassian suggested.

Bashir mused that over. He came across an idea in his mind. "Jack the Ripper?"

Garak suddenly grinned. "That's more like it."

Bashir, too, smiled and told the morbid tale to his Cardassian friend.

"What I fail to comprehend," Garak began when Bashir had finished, "is how your federal forces have still no caught the criminal."

For a moment, the Doctor considered, pursing his lips in thought. "You have to remember that this happened five hundred years ago, Garak," he said. "We didn't have sophisticated medical and forensics technology then. In fact, DNA wasn't discovered for another eighty years."

The corner of Garak's mouth curled up, amused. "My, Doctor, I had no idea you humans were quite so..." he didn't finish his sentence.

"What, slow?" Bashir guessed. He didn't give Garak time to either concur or disagree. "Because I think it shows that humans are more advanced than most other species in the Alpha and Beta Quadrants." Bashir knew that was a massive generalisation to make but he was, of course, referring only to the species known to the Federation.

Though he couldn't quite tell where the Doctor was going with this, Garak nodded, but not without saying, "Except Cardassians."

Bashir didn't comment on that, only justified his point. "Because, well, it took humans some twenty years to go from powered air-flight to rocketry."

"It was much the same for we Cardassians," Garak inputted.

Bashir made an amused face. "Really, Garak? I've read up on Cardassia's history and it took half a century for the same transition."

Garak sank back against the tree and thought about what he could say to rectify the matter. Nothing came to mind so he was left to wonder if he was getting a little rusty.

"Come on then, Garak, why don't you tell me a Cardassian myth?" Bashir challenged.

Garak smirked and spread his hands, clearing his throat. "It is a little late, I don't think it a good idea to relate this particular tale now."

Bashir regarded him quizzically.

"Very well," Garak continued. "In the deepest, darkest woods of Cardassia, not far from the Ramaklan Rocks, lived a creature." He ignored the Doctor's amused face and continued. "Now, this creature was the most hideous, peculiar creature, and those who have seen it were said to have been driven mad by its ugliness. However, this creature did not belong in this world. It came from another realm - the realm of the dead. It only returned to correct the moral balance of our world."

Just then a bird squawked and Bashir sat bolt upright, his eyes peering uncertainly at the darkening sky above. Garak smirked at his friend's discomfiture. "Are you all right, Doctor?"

Bashir composed himself, and looked at Garak. "Yes, yes, I'm fine."

Garak smiled wryly, but said nothing further. "So, this creature of the spirit world became known to be called the Mogrund."

"Mogrund?"

Garak nodded. "The word is a mixture of the word 'morg' which means 'dark' and 'grunde', meaning 'soul'. So, this Mogrund stalked the many woods and forests and looked out for unsuspecting victims."

Bashir looked down at his crossed legs and saw that his hands were tightening around the fabric in agitation.

Garak noticed. "The Mogrund would often strike at night, when Cardassia's star would be long gone and our two moons would both be full."

Bashir slowly looked up at the still darkening sky. He instantly noticed a large planetary body - not Cardassia Prime's two satellites, of course, but the effect it had on Bashir was much the same as if it were. The satellite above them looked little like Earth's moon and more like an asteroid, with its irregular shape and darkened face. However, Bashir could see that the orbiting body was in 'full' phase; the parent star's light shone eerily behind it.

Garak continued. "As a child, I was told that the Mogrund would come for me if I played up at school or didn't do my homework."

Bashir shivered.

"Do you known of anything similar to the Mogrund?" Garak asked.

"One of my teachers came quite close."


	6. Chapter 6

The Cardassian tailor stared, wide-eyed and open-mouthed at the sight which was before him. He wasn't entirely sure how to react. Should he frown? Should he laugh? "Er… Doctor, what is that?"

Doctor Bashir smiled broadly at his friend, looking as innocent as ever. "What is  _what?"_ he repeated, very much enjoying goading the Cardassian.

Garak did not rise to Bashir's childish game. "What is that  _thing_ that you're holding?" Once again, his gaze was drawn to the suspicious furry lump that Bashir was holding. Cradled like a hairy baby in the doctor's arms was a creature which resembled an Earth sloth, except that it was bright pink and had very large eyes.

Bashir gasped; he looked hurt. He looked down at the little creature in his arms, and it made a snuffling noise. "I found…  _it,"_ he reasoned, not really knowing what to call his latest discovery. "It had gotten its head trapped under a fallen log, and I heard it squealing while I was foraging for berries.."

The Cardassian did not look convinced or amused.

"Well, I couldn't leave it, could I?" Bashir quipped defensibly.

"Why not?" Garak queried. He had since taken to fiddling with a tricorder. Perhaps he could fashion it into some sort of make-shift communications device. But he doubted it. They had been stranded on the godforsaken planet for weeks, and his tinkerings had been to no avail. And yet, he did not want to be stuck with that pink furry monstrosity for company any longer than was necessary.

Bashir hunkered down beside Garak, who was sat underneath his favourite tree. The pink animal squirmed but Bashir managed to keep a hold of it. "Because, well, it might have gotten eaten."

"Oh, I see. By a carnivorous reptilian megabeast?" Garak opined, a smirk pulling at his lips.

"… Yes," the doctor slowly, quietly, agreed.

"Well, if you want my opinion," Garak began, though he could tell from Bashir's facial expression that the doctor did not want his opinion. "I say you should have left it where it was. After all, surely you're interfering with this planet's ecosystem by rescuing this animal, defenceless as it might be?"

Bashir considered that; the Cardassian did have a valid point.

"And isn't the 'Prime Directive' of your Starfleet not to interfere in the development of a pre-warp species?" Garak continued.

"I suppose you're right."

"See? I'm not just a pretty face," Garak said with a smile. "And, I do not think your little friend here has achieved warp capability."

Bashir looked down at the small creature, taking in its features. It was very unusual; at least, in Terran terms. Its fur was very coarse around its face, but was soft and fluffy on its belly and legs. It had a tiny balled tail, rather like a Terran rabbit. Its eyes were large and orb-like and almost seemed to sparkle. But its colour greatly perplexed Garak.

"Why is it that vile, lurid colour?"

Bashir shrugged. "I don't know."

"Well, surely it can't be very helpful being that  _vivid?"_ Garak surmised. "Of course, I am no expert in exobiology, but a  _blind_ predator could make out that animal."

"That is, of course, if it's a prey animal," Bashir reasoned. "Why can't it be a predator?"

Garak shrugged, but he wanted to be proven right. And so, he gingerly placed a grey finger in front of the animal's head. The pink sloth reacted instantly, snarling; its jaws snapped open and it very nearly swallowed Garak's hand whole. The Cardassian instantly pulled his hand back, examining a painful cut on his index finger.

"I think it might be a predator," Garak conceded.

"Do you want me to take a look at that?" Bashir asked Garak, gesturing to his wounded hand.

Garak shook his head and waved a dismissive hand. "It's only a superficial laceration. A surface wound. I do believe that is what you'd call it."

Bashir rewarded his friend's medical knowledge with a smile.

"But, I do think that you'd better save your skills as a physician for him." Garak pointed to the animal, which was now breathing quite heavily. It had closed its eyes and had grown very still in Bashir's arms.

"Something's wrong with it..." Bashir surmised, observing the pink sloth creature with concerned eyes. He shifted it off his lap and crossed his lap. Garak fished out the thermal wrap and placed it on the forest floor. Then Bashir gently lowered the ill creature onto the makeshift diagnostic table.

"What do you think is up with it?" Garak inquired. He watched with curiosity as the doctor waved the tricorder over the animal.

Bashir rubbed his forehead. "I don't know. I can't tell. Its genetic makeup is so different to the species that I'm used to operating on. We really could do with an exo-veterinarian."

"As much as we may need one, I don't think we're going to come across one," Garak said, rather unhelpfully.

Bashir ignored the Cardassian's comment and resumed with his as-yet unsuccessful diagnosis of the creature's condition. "The tricorder's reading an elevated heart rate. But that's all I can make out."He sighed, angry that he could not find out more. "Hell, I don't even know if that heart rate is elevated for this particular species."

Garak looked over sympathetically at the doctor. "My dear doctor, if anyone can figure out what is ailing this creature, it is you."

For a short moment, Bashir shared a poignant look with Garak. He smiled. "Okay… let's see..." he murmured as he once more waved the tricorder over the creature. Its breathing had since been reduced to intermittent sniffs and snuffles, and Bashir was sure that it wasn't getting enough air.

"When you scanned the atmosphere, what compounds did you find?" he asked Garak.

The Cardassian frowned, unsure of what Bashir was getting at, but he answered all the same. "Oh, it was relatively normal. Normal for us, that is. Nitrogen, oxygen, carbon dioxide."

"Then why can't it breathe?" Bashir demanded. He flung the tricorder down and sighed.

"Perhaps it has some sort of degenerative disease?" Garak wondered.

Bashir shook his head. "No. That would have shown up on the tricorder." He looked down at the ailing creature, which was indeed a pitiful sight. It was clearly struggling and was definitely in pain. "Oh, if only I had access to the medical facilities on  _DS9!"_

Garak shook his head. "Well, you haven't," he said bluntly, and Bashir knew that he was right.

"You were right," Bashir said after a while.

The Cardassian raised a quizzical eye-ridge. "About what?"

"About me being wrong to rescue it. I should have left it where it was, stuck under that log. A larger predator probably would have found it and eaten it. But at least that would have been a quick death. We don't even have an anaesthetic to reduce its pain."

"A quick death?" Garak repeated, nearly smiling. "You sound like a Jem'Hadar." He paused. "But no, I don't think I was right to say that. You were right to save it. I mean, how are we any different to that poor creature?" For a moment, he was distracted by the laboured breathing of the stricken animal. "We are trapped here, on this hellish planet, just as that creature was trapped underneath that log. Yet, while the creature's cries for help were heard – by yourself – ours were not. I suppose that if our cries for help were heard by Captain Sisko, we would be very grateful. Just as this little creature should be grateful when – if – we save it."

Garak's reasoning had warmed Bashir's heart. He smiled in appreciation of the Cardassian's little speech. And, just as he was about to resign himself to the inevitable, to having to bury the little creature, he was struck by a revelation.

"Garak?"

"Yes, doctor?"

"What did you have for lunch?"

The Cardassian knitted his brow; what a ludicrous question. But when he looked at Bashir, he saw that he was completely serious. "It's funny that you should ask. See, I didn't have the usual rations. They can be awfully dry. I found something that looked like a fruit. I scanned it with the tricorder and it wasn't poisonous. So I ate that, and it was most refreshing."

Bashir nodded slowly, as if the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. "And you had just finished eating when I returned with the animal."

Garak concurred with a nod.

Bashir reached over to the tricorder, turned it on, and waved it over Garak's hands. Bashir studied the readouts. "Hmm… Ah ha! It looks like you've got some small remnants of that mysterious fruit left on your fingers. And the tricorder readouts, they're saying that it contains small amounts of trilithium resin."

Garak regarded the doctor in silence.

Bashir met his gaze. "Don't you see? Trilithium resin is perfectly fine for Cardassians, but it's very toxic to nearly every other mammalian species. Even humans."

"Remind me not to lend you the other half of the fruit then," Garak said with a slight smile.

"But, right now, I need to treat this creature before it's too late." With that, Bashir retrieved the other half of the offending fruit from Garak.

"What are you going to do, doctor?" Garak inquired.

Bashir scanned the fruit and smiled, satisfied. Then he got to his feet quickly and began to sprint away from the campsite.

"Where are you going?" Garak shouted after him.

"To the runabout wreckage!" Bashir called back, but Garak's Cardassian hearing betrayed him and he hardly heard it.

Bashir returned minutes later with a determined look on his face and a hypospray in his hand. He knelt down beside the creature, and he saw that Garak had taken to stroking the creature's fluffy belly. Bashir wasted no time in injecting the hypospray into the animal. It snuffled, opened its eyes and growled. And then it rolled over onto its front and stood up on all of its four legs. It appeared to smile, and it was wagging its negligible tail. Its eager eyes met Bashir's, and it jumped up at him, licking him like a domestic dog that is pleased to see its owner would. But it snarled at the Cardassian tailor.

Garak looked a bit offended. "How rude."

"Don't take it too personally, Garak," Bashir said. "It probably just thinks that you tried to poison it. And, well, I rescued it."

Garak shook his head. "What a simple, fickle creature."

Bashir looked down at the now-happy creature. "What shall we call you?"

As the creature did not look up to giving a reply, Garak stepped in. "If I may… I was thinking 'PriseCh'. In my language, it means 'curiosity'."

"It makes sense. After all, this little creature has proven itself to be  _quite_ inquisitive," Bashir conceded. "But, why don't we settle on just 'Pri'? It rolls off of the tongue better."

Garak smiled in approval.

"I'll just go and put this hypospray into decontamination in the runabout." Bashir looked down at Pri. "Keep an eye on him… her. I think it's a girl." He frowned. "Though, if she wants to go off on her own, I suppose we can't stop her."

Garak watched as Bashir returned to the runabout. He sat down on the ground, again underneath his favourite tree. As he folded up the thermal wrap, his gaze landed on the little pink creature, Pri. "Oh, feel free to be on your way," the Cardassian instructed the creature.

But Pri planted herself squarely in front of Garak, showing no signs of budging. Her big, round eyes and wagging tail told him that she wasn't going anywhere soon. He sighed and reached forward to stroke her soft fur.


	7. Chapter 7

"How long do you reckon we've been here for?" the doctor asked his Cardassian accomplice, his voice weary and his eyes tired.

Garak shrugged and looked up at the sky, squinting. The red dwarf star was still very bright, and so it looked as if night was not about to fall any time soon. "I wouldn't dare hazard a guess, my dear doctor," he answered honestly.

Bashir sighed. "Weeks? It must be more than a few weeks."

Garak nodded slowly, not really listening. "I dread to think what state my shop will be in. "

"Oh?" Bashir looked over at him.

"I left it in Morn's tender care," the Cardassian said, and Bashir didn't need Ferengi-hearing to make out the regret in Garak's voice. "No doubt there are clothes all over the floor, and that's not to mention the disorder that my tailoring tools will undoubtedly be in."

"Well, you never know," Bashir opined. "Morn might be keeping it spick and span. It might look better when we get back than it did when we left."

The Cardassian tailor held up a correcting finger. "If, doctor.  _If_ we get back." He saw that Bashir was about to say something, and so he jumped in before he could. "And,  _please,_ don't give me any of that human spiel about luck or hope."

The doctor held up his hands in defensive. "I wasn't going to. Garak, what's gotten into you?"

The Cardassian sighed and looked down at his hands, which sat pensively in his lap. "I apologise, my dear doctor. It's just, we've been here, on this godforsaken rock, for what seems like an age.  _Surely_ Captain Sisko has sent out search parties. Surely we haven't been forgotten about."

"Forget about  _you?"_ Bashir repeated, a smile playing on his lips. "Impossible."

"I appreciate the sentiment, doctor, but right now, I don't think that that's really going to help us." It was harsh, but it was true, and the Cardassian knew that most truths were indeed harsh.

Suddenly, Bashir laughed.

"Am I missing something?"

"Oh?" Bashir looked up and met his eye. "No, I was just thinking what might happen if the Dominion happened across us." But when he had laughed, it had been sadly and grimly. What  _would_ happen if the Dominion did find them? That didn't exactly bear thinking about. "Where's Pri?"

Garak cleared his throat. "She was shivering," he said; his tone was blunt but the doctor knew that he was just trying to appear emotionless. "So I covered her with the thermal wrap and I think she's fashioned it into some sort of den." He shifted over to the left slightly, and, sure enough, wrapped up in the foil cocoon, was the little pink sloth animal.

Bashir smiled at the endearing scene.

"I know, it's a pitiful sight," the tailor conceded. "A former operative of the Obsidian Order taking a helpless little creature under his wing."

"But it's a welcome sight," Bashir reasoned. "I know. We should try and pass the time. Sitting here and wondering if that distress beacon's reached  _Deep Space Nine_ can't be very good for our nerves. Why don't we take a walk?"

"A walk?" Garak repeated, an incredulous eye-ridge raising.

"Yes. A Walk. Why not? It might make time pass quicker."

"Doctor, I'm sure Lieutenant Dax has told you multiple times that you cannot 'make time pass quicker'." Despite this, Garak reached over and removed the doctor's combadge. He then tinkered with a few of the wires inside of it and placed it in a hollow in the tree. "It should act as a homing beacon, should we get lost on our walk," he explained, upon noticing Bashir's confused expression.

"What about Pri?" Bashir inquired. "Should we leave her?"

"There's only one way to find out," Garak said, so quietly that it was nearly under his breath. He and Bashir began walking. They had only gotten a few dozen metres away from their makeshift campsite when they heard scuffling behind them. The doctor span on his heel, looked down and smiled at what met his gaze.

"Garak?" he called out ahead, for the tailor had kept on walking. "I think my question's been answered."

The Cardassian turned around and returned to where Bashir was. He hunkered down and scooped the distraught little creature up in his arms, which now made contented noises.

"I think Pri's going to develop separation anxiety if we're not careful," the doctor mused, though something told him that the Cardassian would not have deeply minded that.

With all participants now present, they resumed their little journey.

"Fascinating."

Garak stopped in his tracks and looked over his shoulder. He notice that the doctor was taking a peculiarly large amount of interest in a group of mushrooms that had made their home at the foot of a particularly imposing tree. "Doctor, what is it?" he enquired, as he stroked Pri's soft fur.

"Honestly, Garak! You must see these fungi," Bashir called out to him jovially, his interest rather piqued by the multi-coloured, multi-sized, multi-textured mushrooms.

But Garak was in no mood for examining fungi, however interesting they might be. "No, thank you, doctor, but I was never really interested in fungi."

"Ah. Of course. Because why look at dull plants when one is a spy or a tailor?" He frowned. "Hang on a minute. Weren't you a gardener?"

Garak smiled, evidently pleased that Bashir had recalled this bit of information. "Well-remembered, doctor. We might make a spy of you yet." He paused. "I was a gardener on Romulus, in fact."

"And you still can't bring yourself to appreciate these mushrooms?"

Garak shook his head. "I was more into flowers myself. Specifically, Edosian orchids. I always said that a perfectly maintained flowerbed could melt even the stoniest of hearts. Which reminds me. I must given Chief O'Brien's wife my compliments on her aboretum."

Bashir was just about add something when Garak clamped a hand over his mouth. Bashir knitted his brow. "Garak," he struggled to whisper. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Quiet, doctor," Garak said, with a voice so quiet that it suggested a great deal of urgency. "I believe we are being watched." Gently, he removed his hand away from Bashir's mouth. He looked down and saw that Pri, too, was being very quiet.

"Watched?" Bashir repeated, perhaps a little too loudly. And then his grew very wide when he felt the ground shake beneath his feet. He swallowed. "What should we do?" he asked Garak.

"I'm afraid to say that I don't know," Garak admitted. "You are the expert on carnivorous reptilian megabeasts."

Under any other circumstances, Bashir would have smiled. But this time, he only made a grim face at the Cardassian tailor. He saw that Garak had taken to holding Pri rather tightly, as if afraid – not that Garak would  _ever_ be afraid – that the little animal would leap out of his arms and run away. Then Bashir flinched.

Bashir frowned. "I think I saw something. Perhaps it was a search party! It could be Captain Sisko and Dax and O'Brien and–"

But Garak narrowed his eyes and clamped a grey hand over the doctor's mouth before his voice could get any louder. "I wouldn't start shouting just yet, doctor."

"Why not?"

"Because, either night has suddenly fallen very quickly, or we are standing in the shadow of something very large."

Bashir whipped his whole body around and came face to face with a most unwelcome sight. Standing before him, Pri and the Cardassian tailor was a great hulking beast. He couldn't tell if it was carnivorous, but it was certainly mega, and its intricately scaled body told him that it was definitely reptilian. Before he could deduce any more, the beast let out a deafening roar and the foul stench of its breath reached Bashir's nose; it had probably recently eaten meat. The creature had two very large eyes with slits for pupils. Its tongue was forked and purple. Each of its long, thick legs ended in talons. Its tail was pure muscle. It reminded Bashir of an Earth dinosaur.

The beast began to advance on them, and they noted how much louder its laborious breathing was getting.

Bashir scrambled for his phaser, even though he knew that he didn't have one with him.

"Pri!" Garak said with an urgency. Bashir followed Garak's line of sight and understood why he had shouted. The little pink animal was rounding on the dinosaur-like beast and was squaring up to it. The dinosaur stared down at Pri and looked rather confused. What was this tiny, cute little creature going to do it? To a four-tonne, well-armoured, highly muscled reptile?

Pri bowed her little furry head, and after a moment's silence, let out the most deafeningly high-pitched scream that either the doctor, the tailor or the dinosaur had ever heard. Bashir and Garak had been thrown to the ground by the intensity of the shriek, and when he had landed, the Cardassian had hit his head on the trunk of a tree, nearly knocking him out. They watched in awe as the dinosaur bowed its head and scurried away, disappearing as quickly and as unexpectedly as it had appeared.

Garak slowly brought himself into a seated position, rubbing his head. As he drew his hand back, he saw that he was bleeding slightly. Bashir waved is tricorder over the wound and gave Garak a smile. "It's nothing to worry about. A battle wound."

"She really is full of surprises, wouldn't you say?" Garak said to Bashir as they looked at Pri. "I suppose we shouldn't judge a book by its cover."

"Unless it's an enigma tale," Bashir said with a triumphant smirk.

"Doctor, do you really have no taste? Enigma tales are at the forefront of Cardassian literature."

"Or a repetitive epic."

Garak only sighed. "Still better than what you humans have to offer. I mean, how Caesar didn't know that Brutus was going to kill him is just  _beyond_ me."


End file.
